Chris's Help with English

His name was Chris Adler and he was the first boy in our class to start shaving. He was also the first to start smoking, take drugs and, most likely, to lose his virginity. He had always been considered the toughest boy in our year, partly helped by the fact that just before he joined our school his older brother had murdered their father. He didn't have any friends, he just hung around on his own, and if anyone went near him he'd scare them off. And here I was, approaching him.

We were both in the 6th and final year of high school. Most people had dropped out 2 years earlier, after taking their Standard Grade exams. The brighter ones stayed on another year or two before going on to university while others stayed on as they had nothing else to do.

The day before, our Guidance Teacher had approached me and told me there was a favour she'd like. Naturally I agreed before she'd even said what it was. Stupid me. The school's policy was to help those pupils who were falling behind by giving them peer mentoring - that is, they'd get extra help from their classmates, not from teachers. Chris, she told me, needed extra help with maths and English. The plan was that, during my free periods, I'd go to the library and help Chris with his maths and English.

In the playground my stomach was churning. Nobody talked to Chris unless they absolutely had to. I was approaching the bike sheds where, of course, Chris was to be found smoking. I'd never been here before - no bike and I didn't smoke - and I'd never wanted to. But now I had to. I could see Chris up ahead. He'd just taken out a cigarette from the pack and was putting it to his lips. If he wasn't so scary he would've been sexy. His uniform was basically the same as all the rest - white shirt, school tie and black trousers, but he also had Doc Martens and a leather biker jacket. He had floppy, slightly curly black hair, a goatee, and piercing blue eyes, and he was about the same height as me, 5'10'.

'Yeah, whaddya want?' he scowled.

'Er... Mrs Brown asked me to come and see you.'

'What does that bitch want?'

'Peer mentoring.'

'What?'

'Peer mentoring. I'm supposed to help you with maths and English.'

'Fuck that shit.'

'We have to.'

He sighed. The other boys in the bike shed were sniggering at my obvious discomfort.

'So?'

'So, what?'

'When?'

'We're supposed to meet Mrs Brown today before lunch. Her office.'

He sighed again. 'All right. Now fuck off.' He lit his cigarette, took a deep draw, and exhaled.

Sex on legs. But of course I couldn't tell him that. I couldn't let anyone know. I drank in the sight and stored it for use later that night, and headed back to the main building.

The lunch bell rang and I headed for Mrs Brown's office. Chris was there waiting for me.

'Hi,' I said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

'Hi,' he replied.

Mrs Brown came out and showed us into her office. She told us about the programme, told us when we should meet, and gave me a file of extra activities to help Chris with his work. We were told to try to meet three times a week and then we were sent on our way. Chris immediately headed for the bike shed.

'Hey!' I called after him. 'Chris.'

He turned around, obviously annoyed. 'What?'

'So when do you want to meet?'

'Never.'

'But we have to.'

He sighed. He did that a lot. 'Fine. Period 6.'

After lunch I had French, then came Period 6. I headed to the library, and of course Chris wasn't there. He still wasn't there after 10 minutes, and just as I was about to get up to leave he came sauntering in, hands in his trouser pockets. He sat down beside me, a faint trace of cigarettes in the air.

'Hi,' I said. I didn't want to start an argument.

'Whatever. What are we gonna do?' He started to take off his biker jacket.

'I thought we'd start with maths. I've got these sheets. We can start with the basics.' I took out the sheet marked A-1-1 and put it down in front of us.

'Got a pencil?' he asked.

I took one from my pencil case and handed it to him. He stuck it in his mouth and started chewing on it, apparently oblivious to the fact it was my pencil and completely unchewed. The sheet had some simple equations and Chris just looked at them for a good few seconds.

'Can't do it,' he muttered.

'Yes you can, we'll go through it together.'

'No. Can't.' And he got up and left, only to return a few seconds later to get his biker jacket. And then again to return the pencil, heavily chewed.

I thought to myself that it was going to be a disaster, but I didn't want to disappoint Mrs Brown. Tomorrow was Friday and I didn't have any free periods then, so I decided that I'd go around to his house on Saturday. If he wasn't in, he wasn't in, but at least I could say I'd tried.

On Saturday morning I had breakfast while watching something on TV, then told my parents where I was going. They were surprised to say the least, but happy that I wasn't going to be sitting playing Xbox all day. As Chris's house wasn't too far from mine I walked. I'd never been to his street before, although I'd passed it many times. It looked quiet and respectable, not the kind of place I associated with Chris Adler.

As I approached the door the butterflies returned to my stomach. I considered turning back, but something inside of me pushed me on. I wanted to see where Chris came from. Maybe I'd see why he was like he was. I rang the doorbell and waited. A woman's voice called out, 'Be there in a minute!' and shortly an attractive woman answered the door.

'Hi, I'm Matt. I'm in class with Chris, and... we've been assigned to do a project together.'

'Oh, he never mentioned that to me. Well come in. He's upstairs in his room.'

I went inside. The house was lovely. Tastefully furnished and it smelled of fresh flowers. Maybe I'd got the wrong house, but then again, she did say that Chris was up in his room.

I knocked on his door. 'Chris?'

'Shit!' he said, from behind the door.

'Can I come in?'

'Shit!' he repeated. It wasn't a yes or a no. Either he was having a wank or he was desperately cleaning up. I turned the handle.

'Hi,' I said. The sight that greeted me was no what I'd been expecting, and I couldn't help but show my surprise. Far from being the pit I'd imagined, the room was pristine. The bed was made, there were no clothes lying about, his boots were neatly against the wall with some other shoes and boots, and on one wall there was a bookcase full of books. There were 2 large framed posters on the walls, one of James Dean in Rebel Without A Cause, and another of Marlon Brando in The Wild One.

'What the fuck are you doing here?' he asked, obviously displeased at my presence.

'Well, you left on Thursday and I thought we should give it another go.

'Fuck. This wasn't supposed to happen.'

'What wasn't?'

'You. Here. Now.'

From downstairs his mum called up. 'I'm going now Chris. There's food in the fridge if you and your friend want a snack and I've left some money in case you want to go to McDonald's or something. I'll be back about 6. I'll give your love to gran.'

'Ok, mum,' he called down. 'See you later!' Wow. That was his normal voice. Not rough, not mean. Normal. Kind, even. In a lower voice, he said to me, 'You CANNOT tell anyone about this, you hear? NO-ONE!'

'Ok, I swear!'

'Good.' He paused. 'You shouldn't have come around here, you know.'

'But I wanted to help. And Mrs Brown...'

'Oh she can't help herself, that woman.'

'I'm sorry.'

He sighed. 'It's not your fault, I suppose, it's mine.'

'What do you mean?'

'Never mind. Get your stuff out.'

I took out the folder from my bag and laid it on his desk. His desk was just as neat as the rest of his room. There was a holder for pens and pencils (none chewed!), some post-its, and a calculator. None of this fit with the Chris I knew from school.

'I'm not an idiot, you know,' he said, as I was taking some sheets out of the folder.

'I didn't say you were. You just need a bit of help, that's ok.'

'I don't need any help,' he said, matter-of-factly, 'I just find school a bore. The teachers piss me off.'

'Yeah,' I smiled, 'I'd noticed.'

He smiled back. 'You're all right, you know that?'

'Thanks.' I took out some sheets and put them on the desk.

'You can grab that stool over there,' he said, pointing to beside his wardrobe. By the time I'd fetched the chair and sat down he'd completed the sheet. 'Told you I didn't need any help.'

'I need to check this.'

'No you don't, it's fine. I don't have any problems with maths. Or English. Come on, let's go out.'

'What?'

'Let's go out. We can go to the park.'

'Uh... ok.' I was surprised to say the least. This wasn't the scenario I'd built up in my head. Chris was normal, for one thing, and he didn't need any help.

'I'll just get changed.' He opened his wardrobe and threw out a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a shirt, and his biker jacket. I turned around back to the desk, but in the mirror on the wall I could see him getting changed. He stripped off his t-shirt and shorts and was standing there in his boxers. I couldn't see much of his chest but it looked well-defined, not an ounce of unwanted fat anywhere. He also seemed to fill the front of his boxers quite well. At least that's the way it looked from where I was sitting. I was almost so engrossed in watching him change that I barely managed to look away in time when he turned around.

'So,' he said, 'you ready to go?'

'Uh, sure,' I replied.

'Do you want a Coke?' he asked, heading for the kitchen.

'Sure,' I replied, following. As we went through the living room to the kitchen, I couldn't help but notice there were no pictures of his father and brother, although there were quite a few of him and his mum. Only him and his mum. From an early age. But I pushed the thought out of my mind.

In the kitchen he'd opened the fridge, only to find no cans of Coke, so he bent down to a cupboard to see if there were any there. This afforded me a perfect view of his bum. He jeans hugged him so tightly they were like a second skin. I involuntarily licked my lips. 'Here,' he said suddenly, getting up and turning around, 'catch.' I caught the can, thankfully, and hoped he hadn't noticed me staring, longingly, at the prize that was held within his jeans. He smiled. On the way out he picked up the money his mum had left, and then we were on our way to the park.

I had a million thoughts racing around my head, all of which had to do with why the Chris here with me today was nothing like the Chris I saw at school. We walked in silence for a few minutes before I said, 'So...'

'Yeah?' he asked.

'You.'

'Yeah?' he replied, grinning. I think he knew what I was going to ask.

'You're... different.'

'You gotta promise not to let anyone know.'

'Ok. I said that already. But...'

'But why I am like that? Less hassle. People leave me alone. School kids bore me. They're so stupid and artificial. The cool ones have their heads up their arses, the rough ones are just stupid beyond belief, and most of the others are just zombies walking around school, too stupid to notice what's going on in the world.'

'I'm not like that,' I interrupted, slightly offended.

'No,' he said, 'I don't think you are. Anyway, I just think it's better if people leave me alone. I don't care what they think of me, whether I'm an idiot, or some tough bastard or whatever, just as long as they leave me alone.'

'Seems to work,' I said. He agreed.

We got to the park and sat on a bench, looking at the people going by.

'Don't you get lonely?' I asked.

'Don't you?' A question with a question.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I never see you hanging around with anyone in our class. You don't play football, you don't go and smoke, you don't hang with the cool kids. You just walk around with your iPod.'

'People leave me alone. I like it that way.'

'A bit different. Like me,' he smiled.

'Yeah,' I replied, smiling back.

He then let out one almighty burp. 'Sorry 'bout that. Better out than in, as my dad used to say.'

'Your dad...' I began.

'Yeah, he lives in Cairo now.'

'But I thought...'

'Yeah, I know. I started that rumour. Helped with the image. It seems naive now. I can't believe everyone fell for it, or that no-one checked it out. He left when I was five and I see him once a year when I go on holiday to Egypt. He's an archaeologist.'

'Oh! Fact is more interesting than fiction.' We sat there for another half an hour, talking about his trips to Egypt, going places where the tourists don't usually go, helping his dad on digs.

I was really beginning to warm to Chris. He was intelligent, that was obvious, and he knew how to tell a good story. He had me laughing countless times as he told me about things he'd got up to in his previous school, or things he'd done on holiday. My life seemed so mundane in comparison.

'What about the smoking?' I asked. 'What's all that about.'

'I started when I was 14, on one of my holidays to visit dad. He had some students with him for the summer, one of them smoked, and he offered me one. My dad caught me that very first time, but I can wind him round my little finger. You know, the guilt thing. So I said I'd been smoking for months, and I've been smoking ever since.'

'What does your mum say?'

'Well, she knows, obviously, but she's said I can't smoke at home. She'd like me to stop, but I like it, actually.'

'I see.'

'You ever tried it?'

'No, not a big fan.'

'Neither was I. Now I feel like my day hasn't started until I've had my first one on the way to school.' There was another pause, then he said, 'You wanna head back? We can stop at McD's on the way and pick up something to eat.'

'Sure,' I said, 'that sounds great.' I paused. 'Aren't you scared someone will see us together?'

'I don't care. We can just say you were helping me with the maths and we took a break.'

We picked up some grub from McDonald's and headed back to his house and went up to his room to eat it. I cleared a space on his desk while he threw his jacket on the bed.

'I really like your jacket,' I said, hoping I didn't sound too gay. But I did like it, and I liked looking at him in it.

'Thanks,' he said, as he took out a hanger and hung it up. I could see in his wardrobe he had at least 2 more.

'Wow, how many have you got? That's a little collection you've got there.'

'Yeah, I like 'em,' he said. 'Do you want to try one on? You'd suit one.'

'Er... ok.'

He took out one and threw it over to me. I removed the hanger and just admired the jacket. It was heavy and I loved the smell. I put it on and admired myself in the mirror.

'That's hot,' he said.

'What?' I asked, a little surprised.

'Eh... It's cool, you look really cool.' That wasn't what he had said.

'Put yours back on,' I told him. My mouth was saying things my brain couldn't control. But he did. And he came over.

'Yeah, you look really cool,' he said.

'So do you.'

We both admired ourselves in the mirror. I put my hands in the pockets and turned around, to see what I looked like from behind. I turned back to look at him and he was looking at me. Or into me.

He moved another step forward and I moved a step forward also. We were about half a metre apart. In silence. Just looking.

He then lowered he eyes to see the bulge forming in my jeans and then looked into my eyes again.

I bit my lip, all the while looking into his eyes.

I took another step forward. We were now inches apart. I could feel his breath, and I imagine he could feel mine.

He looked at my lips.

My hands were getting clammy and my breathing was getting shallower.

Then he kissed me.

He brought his hands up and ran them through my hair, holding my head in place while our lips connected. I closed my eyes as his tongue found its way into my mouth. I could taste him. I put my arms around him and hugged him tighter. He dropped his hands from my head and put his arms around my neck. Our tongues were duelling, discovering new territory and causing electrical sparks to course through my veins every time they touched.

This was really happening. I didn't dare open my eyes, scared I'd wake up and find myself in history class or something. But this felt so real and it felt so good. I brought my hands around and then put them underneath his jacket and hugged him close, exploring his back with fervour as our tongues did battle.

'Oh God,' he said as he broke away, 'I've wanted to do that for so long.'

'WHAT?!' I asked incredulously, taking a step back.

'Oh shit, I'm sorry! I hope...'

'Don't be sorry!' I said. 'I liked that as much as you did... I think. But what do you mean you've wanted it for so long.'

'I have a confession. Mrs Brown. She came to see me on Monday and told me about the programme. She said she'd try to find someone. I suggested you. I hoped you'd say yes. I didn't think it would lead to this... today... but I was hoping we'd get to spend some time together.'

I stood there, my mouth hanging open, not knowing what to say.

'Shit, I'm sorry,' he repeated.

I went up to him and pecked him on the lips. 'Don't be sorry. I'm not.' And then I pulled him in to another long kiss.

Eventually, he said, 'We'd better stop. The food'll get cold.' I laughed. We sat down and started eating the burgers and chips. In silence.

Once I'd slurped the last of the chocolate milk shake, I said, 'I've never done that before. Kissed a boy... Kissed anyone.'

'Me either. But I couldn't stop myself. You looked... you look so hot.'

'You've never kissed anyone? I thought you were some big stud, fucking anything in a skirt. I never would've thought you're gay... ARE you gay?'

'I don't know, I've never put a label to it before. Maybe. Are you?'

I paused. I'd never admitted it to anyone, and not really even to myself. 'I think so.' Just those three little words and suddenly a great weight lifted off my shoulders. 'Yeah, I think so.'

Again there was silence. Suddenly my mobile rang. 'Shit!' I exclaimed, taken by surprise. I could see it was my mum. 'Hello? ... Yes, we're getting on fine... No, we had something from McDonald's... No, he paid...' Then turning to him, I said, 'My mum says thank you.' Back to my mum. 'I'll ask. Tonight? Ok... No, he's not a vegetarian.' Back to Chris, 'My mum wants to know if you'd like to come around for tea tonight.'

'Nah, I probably shouldn't. My mum will pick something up on the way back from gran's, but tell her thanks. Maybe some other time?'

'He says no,' I told my mum. Just then I felt his hand on my leg. It made me jump. 'His mum isn't here right now and she'll be bringing back something on her way home... Yes, of COURSE we're being good. We're studying.' His hand travelled further up my leg, a big grin forming on his face. I couldn't believe he was feeling me up while I was on the phone to my mum. I stared at him with big, wide eyes, willing him to stop. But he didn't. 'Ok, I'll see you later. Bye.' I pressed the button and put my phone down. 'What are you doing?' I asked.

'I would've thought that was obvious. I'm trying to find out if I'm gay or not. I like what I feel so far,' he said, chuckling.

He was making me hard, and pretty soon he'd have a lot more to feel. Gingerly I put my hand on his knee.

'I'm big,' he said, 'but it doesn't stretch down THAT far!'

I laughed. Who would've thought that I'd be with Chris Adler, him feeling my package while I was feeling his. He stood up and threw his jacket on the bed, and then pushed the one I was wearing off my shoulders and threw it on the bed also. I stood up and his hand went right for my crotch, looking deep into my eyes while he did it. I also put my hand to feel his jeans, and I could feel there was a sizeable prize waiting there. Becoming a little bolder, I then moved my hand under his jeans and searched for his dick. It wasn't difficult to find and it was as hard as a rock.

'Wow,' I said. I then felt further down to feel his balls, and rolled them around in my hand. I kissed him again, a long, tender kiss. My hand varied between his balls and stroking his sizeable shaft. He was making appreciative noises as I did so, so I guessed I was doing something right. I suddenly felt his hand around my engorged cock, pulling the foreskin back and forward.

'Nice,' he said as he broke off the kiss.

'Mmm, yours too.'

It was his turn to take the lead this time, and he undid my belt buckle and then the buttons on my 501s. I wiggled my bum a bit to make them fall to the floor and then stepped out of them. His hand was free to play around with my cock and balls as much as he wanted, all the while I just gazed into his eyes. I couldn't believe what was going on. I pecked him on the lips again, then undid his belt and jeans and they fell to the floor.

'Hold on,' he said, 'I gotta take off my boots.' He bent down to untie his Doc Martens and kicked them across the room, then stepped out of his jeans. His cock was so big it was sticking out over the top of his boxers.

'That's some package you've got there,' I said, to which he blushed. He then pulled me closer and began an intense, wild kiss, all the while fondling my meat and 2 veg. While still kissing me he started to undo my shirt and threw it across the room. I did the same, then started to pull up his black, Harley Davidson t-shirt. My hands were now free to explore his chest, completely hairless, but oh so inviting. His nipples stuck out like kernels of sweetcorn and I just had to have a taste. I kissed around them delicately, and flicked them with my tongue.

'Oh Jesus!' he said, 'I never knew they could feel like that!'

I looked up and smiled, and then he lifted up my t-shirt over my head. He kissed me on the lips, then slowly kissed my chin, then down my neck, down to my nipples. I let out a moan. He was right. I never knew they were so sensitive. I kicked off my trainers as we both somehow made our way to the bed. He lay on the bed first, lifting his bum, and pulling off his boxers.

'Maybe lose the socks as well?' I teased. And there he was, in all his naked glory. I pulled down my own boxers, tugged off my socks, and joined him on his bed. We were lying there, our bodies together, kissing while our hands explored a whole new world. We were both clearly turned on by what we were doing. He then broke off the kiss and took my cock in his hand and started to slowly pump up and down. 'Shit, I'm not gonna last long,' I said. I could feel myself building up, so I moved his hand away and started to do the same to him.

'Oh shit,' he said, 'I'm not gonna last long either.'

He then reached over and we were both jacking away. 'It's gonna come,' I shouted out. And after a few more strokes I started pumping out rope after rope of cum. Almost as soon as he saw my reaction he also started to cum. We lay back, panting, both our chests covered in our glistening seed.

'FUCK!' he exclaimed. He then turned and kissed me lightly on the lips. 'Thanks.' He laughed. 'That sounds so stupid - 'thanks'.'

'The pleasure was mine,' I replied, and it had been a pleasure. I'd never experienced anything like it in my life. I kissed him back and then lay back on the bed.

After a minute or two of just lying there, he said, 'I think we should probably clean ourselves up.' His bedroom had an en-suite bathroom with a large shower cubicle. 'It's big enough for two,' he said. He led me into the bathroom and turned on the shower, opened the door and then pulled me in. He took some shower gel in his hands, lathered it up, and then started to massage my chest. He playfully rubbed my nipples which were no less sensitive than they had been earlier. 'I like your nipples, they're different to mine. They don't stick out as much.'

'Yeah, I noticed, but I like yours too,' I said as I leant across and kissed them. It was now my turn to wash him, and I took extra special care to make sure his cock and balls were nice and clean. 'There now,' I said once I'd finished. 'As good as new!'

He turned off the shower and we got out. He grabbed a towel from the rail and started to dry off my body. This had the undesired effect of making me hard all over again. 'Oh, I think you like that,' he teased. 'But I better be careful. We don't want to have to get clean again, do we?'

After we'd finished drying each other off we both got changed again.

'You can look properly, this time,' he said.

'What do you mean?'

'Before, before we went to the park, I saw you looking at me.'

I blushed. 'Oh!'

'Don't worry, I liked it. I could've got changed in the bathroom if I hadn't wanted you to see me.'

'Oh yeah,' I said, the realisation that it had all been part of his plan just beginning to dawn on me.

I saw the clock on his desk and saw it said 4:30. 'Listen, I'd better be going,' I said. 'My mum's expecting me home at 5 for tea. You're still welcome to come you know.'

'I think we both came enough for one day. But I should wait for my mum. She'll get a carry-out. It's a tradition on Saturdays.'